


Creepy Bingo

by truet



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Language, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Not Foggy Friendly, Well he just needs a little nudge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-19
Updated: 2018-12-19
Packaged: 2019-09-22 19:01:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17065334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/truet/pseuds/truet
Summary: Matt finally lets Foggy have it for all those "creepy" remarks.





	Creepy Bingo

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't really Foggy friendly, although I do love Foggy. I just think he's a little privileged and his remarks abt Matt's senses prove it, so he needs a bit of education. 
> 
> Don't like; don't be tempted to read it! I will be moderating comments.

It was when they were going over depositions that Foggy said it, and Matt wanted to kick himself for not making up a braille bingo card for the amusement value, if nothing else. He was already pissed off at Foggy for calling his senses "creepy" at least once that morning, just because Matt knew Foggy'd been smiling. As if anyone with hearing couldn't tell when someone had a smile in their voice. 

So, cross off the 'CREEPY' square. Then Matt, coming back to their table with a cup of tea, heard Theo approaching heavily and tried to dodge out of the way but only managed to dance with him and dump half the tea on top of himself in the process. 

Foggy's oh-so-charming comment was, "Guess that's what it must've been like when you were really blind."

Matt let a moment pass while the blood rushed into his ears. Foggy had finally said it.

"Really blind? _Really_ blind?" Matt could feel his lips peeling back from his teeth like that dog down on 36th that scared the shit out of him when he was eight. He'd never, ever forgotten the image of its fangs. He channeled that mutt as he turned to face Foggy.

Foggy waved air at him as he said, "Wrong words, I guess, sorry!"

"You want to go for a bingo today and talk about how me being blind gets me the chicks?"

"What're you talking about?" Foggy sounded truly puzzled, that was the thing. If Matt didn’t love him so much he'd be tempted to punch him right in his blind, stupid face.

"Foggy, here's some news: I'm 'really blind' all the time." Matt spat the words out. He was so pissed he could barely get them out without stuttering. "You want to know why I really didn't call you as soon as I woke up from that drug cocktail my not-dead-mother was pumping into me to keep me in a coma? And, by the way, there's something you don't get to say every day."

Foggy shook his head slowly, hands still out. "Okay, just chill, bro. You're getting the way you get like—"

"Like what? You want me to be the calm, happy face of disability? Screw that." 

Foggy made a shocked sound.

Matt rolled on. "I didn't call you because I was pretty sure those would be the first words out of your mouth. 'Oh, poor Matt, now he's _really_ blind.' Like I needed that, right then, when I was already drowning; like I'm not really blind right now, like you don't mock the ways I compensate for my impairment every day, calling my senses w-weird or creepy or just damned invasive, when they're all I have to survive with because _I can't use my goddamned eyes_." Matt took a gulp of air and brought in—Foggy's panic, Foggy's anger, Foggy's open-mouthed, pulse pounding guilt. He didn't say anything, so Matt finished, "And, for the record, I think it's pretty damned creepy that you can always tell when I'm sad, or angry, or about to cry, you name it, from twenty feet away. That you can see me from three miles away with your naked eye. That's weird, Foggy. Invasive. I can never tell if someone can or can't see me. I can never know when it's safe to relax my face, pick my nose, take my goddamn clothes off, unless I'm in an enclosed space, and even then, there might be cameras I can't look for. Everywhere around me, there are eyes possibly watching me all the time. And I have no way of knowing because I can't sense far enough out."

Matt heard Foggy take a shuddering breath. "Okay, _that's_ really creepy. I'm...I'm sorry, Matt."

"Yeah." Matt let out a sigh.

"And you have a point about me laying it on too hard. But it was always more because I didn't know about your senses for all that time."

"And what would you have done? Hide your heartbeat? Do you see me walking around with a bag over my head?"

Foggy was silent a moment. "I...don't have a counter argument, but it's still unfair that you kept it from me," he said, his voice filled with resentment. "I was hurt." 

Matt took a deep breath and sat down. His hands were trembling. The tea had cooled, and his shirt was sticking to his chest uncomfortably. Thank God Karen wasn't here today or they'd both be getting an earful from her. Theo had gone back front with his ham or whatever that meat-smelling thing was.

"I've apologized for that. But look, Foggy, back when we first met, the first things you said to me were a little out there. You remember?"

Matt could practically feel the heat emanating from Foggy's face. "Oh, man. I didn't stop thinking about that for days. But that's what happens when you get stoned to ease the burden of course selection."

"Right," Matt said heavily. "You did that a lot those days. You got baked whenever you got bored studying, got bored waiting in line for tickets to concerts, got bored in core curriculum classes, and never let me hear the end of what a tool our LitHum professor was. You pretty much smoked your way through freshman year."

Foggy shifted uncomfortably. "But you helped me get a handle on that eventually."

"Yeah, Fog. But it didn't exactly inspire me with the confidence to entrust you with a secret that could get me stuck in a lab and experimented on. You walked around talking about stuff at the top of your lungs like everyone should know it. And when you were stoned, that meant you had zero discretion on subject matter, hence the 'freaky peepers, man,' and calling me a wounded handsome duck and telling me I was hot two seconds after meeting me."

Foggy radiated a blush at him from across the table. "Okay, okay, jeez. What is this, payback?"

"A little." The mutt stopped growling and settled down. "The point is, Stick told me over and over again that I couldn't tell anyone or I'd get strapped down and experimented on like a lab rat. Having you call my senses freaky, weird, and invasive isn't helping convince me I made the wrong decision."

"Oh," Foggy said in a small voice. "That's not fair, Matt. You know I would protect you with everything I have."

"Yeah, I know so. But my senses aren't weird or freaky or wrong, Foggy. They're my compensation. I'm 'really' blind. Strip away my radar and I'm blind and also dependent until I relearn to compensate." Matt's voice went hoarse and he was damned glad for his glasses today. 

"God." Foggy's hand brushed along the table and touched his tentatively. "I'm sorry, Matty," he said slowly. "It's not that I think you're weird. I guess, that first day, I took what you said a little too literally. Like I could say anything I wanted and you wouldn't take offense." 

The tears in Foggy's voice were going to kill him. "It's not your fault. I should have said something sooner." Matt's voice wobbled and he squeezed Foggy's hand back. "I'm no good at that, Fogs." 

"We both suck," Foggy said, and he got up, stepping away to come back from the back storage room. "Here."

"Oh, God, is this...?"

"A Nelson Meats T-shirt, yup. You can put it on in the storage room," Foggy added. "No windows, so no one looking."

"Thanks, Foggy," Matt said, giving him a clap on the shoulder. Foggy turned it into a hug, and Matt leaned into it gratefully. 

"I promise not too suck so hard if you promise to say something next time I put my foot in it," Foggy said, and Matt took a shuddering breath.

"Yeah, okay. I love you, Fog," he muttered into Foggy's shoulder, glad he hadn't alienated his best friend by bothering to complain about shit he should shut up about. Just shut up and take it, keep quiet or he'd lose his place. _What room is there for a blind orphan who isn't well-behaved, smiling, and Christian?_ a nun whispered in his ear. 

But that wasn't him, anymore. He was Daredevil. And Foggy's friend. And Matt Murdock, Esquire. 

Matt changed his shirt and flipped Foggy the bird when he ribbed him about being a walking meat ad.

Then they went back to work.

 

.....


End file.
